


Heavy

by Maebmin



Category: Fables - Willingham, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maebmin/pseuds/Maebmin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bigby searches for Snow after she leaves the office for a few days. Set a few years before the events of TWAU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy

**Author's Note:**

> For a long time I've wanted to touch on Snow's depression and her possible dependence on alcohol. I might continue this series, might not. This story may be triggering if you are sensitive to substance dependence.

Her absence was instantly noticeable to him. All he had to do was wake up and realize that the air had changed.

Bigby tried to be nonchalant about it after the first day. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he sauntered into the business office that morning and he waited his turn as a frazzled Crane argued with a drunken Buffkin over some files on the Deputy Mayor’s desk. It only took a moment before Crane glanced up and narrowed his bitter eyes at the sheriff.

“ _What_ , Bigby.”

He glanced around, establishing his disinterest, before he answered, “I was wondering where Snow was. Is she gone for the day?”

Crane didn’t bother looking up again from his paperwork as he replied with gruff apathy, “She asked for a few days off earlier this week. Had some business she had to take care of. Or something. I don’t know.”

“Any idea when she’ll be back?”

“I…why do you care? Don’t you have work to do?”

Bigby had dropped the conversation there. He couldn’t exactly _argue_ with that, and he didn’t. Instead, he went about his day as usual. He missed her coming by his crappy office and peeking her head in, usually with a smile but sometimes not. Sometimes she was bored and would just stop by to say hi. Or she would scold him for something, like wrecking her new filing system. Either way, he was usually happy to see her. The days seemed longer without her pleasant interruptions.

He made a point of asking around the next day. Buffkin’s constant eavesdropping finally paid off for Bigby. His words slurred as he lazily slumped over a pile of books in the Business Office while he informed Bigby that he had overheard Snow make reservations at a hotel uptown. A nice uptown place that he had heard her recommend before. He let that information sit for another day before he left The Woodlands after a quiet evening, and hailed a taxi.

It wasn’t long until he was in the elevator and on his way to the hotel bar. His thoughts were empty, and in their place was an overwhelming feeling of unease, a feeling that motivated him to understand what was going on. The place was nice -- fancy enough that Bigby was starting to feel a little out of place. The golden doors opened and he knew he was close.

The bar was long and narrow, with high ceilings and wide windows on the opposite side of the room. Piano played lightly in the background and the cigarette smoke did little to assuage the smell of perfume and liquor that filled his nose. As he made his way to the far window, the bittersweet scent he had been missing for nearly a week now called his name. He glanced around, floundering for a moment before his eyes landed on a head of raven hair, tied meticulously into a wide bun. He stopped before he took the few steps over to her table.

A martini glass sat in front of her and her manicured fingernails gripped the edges in thought. She didn’t even bother to spare a glance at him, despite his shadow that now casted over her.

“Snow?”

Her eyes widened, and she turned finally in confusion. To Bigby’s comfort, she gave a wide, if maybe bemused smile as she recognized the sheriff.

“Oh. It’s _you_.”

“Hey, uhm,” Bigby furrowed his brow before he gestured back to the elevator, “I can leave right now if you want me to. I’m…I’m sorry if I’m barging in on something.”

“It was only a matter of time, Wolf.” She shrugged towards the booth in front of her. “Sit. It’ll throw them off, maybe.”

“Excuse me?” Bigby sat down and took another look at his surroundings.

“Clearly, you’ve never been a woman sitting alone at a bar.”

Bigby caught a passing glare from a man sitting across the room.

“Oh.”

They sat in silence. Her cheeks were rosy and she had a nebulous smirk. The potent smell of gin on her breath helped to explain her demeanor.

“So…was someone worried about me?” She smiled as she rose the glass to her lips, raising her brows in curiosity.

Bigby nearly blushed. “I couldn’t shake this bad feeling…You’ve been gone for quite a while, Snow.”

Her wavering gaze struggled to keep with his eyes, but she answered confidently, “I know. I’ll be back soon. I just…” Her voice trailed off before she shrugged apathetically.

Again, silence.

Bigby watched her and her heavy eyes before a sense of guilt came over him. He shook his head, perplexed at himself, before he started to get up. “Alright, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry. This was…stupid.”

“No! No.” She reached out and placed a warm palm on the back of his hand. Bigby froze, glancing down at her fingers before she pulled it away and leaned forward on the table. “I don’t want you to go.” She pulled back and her red cheeks became more flushed. “I mean, you can go if you need to. But I don’t mind if you stay here.”

He tentatively relaxed, and ran his hand through his hair before he let his elbows rest on the table.

“Can I get you a drink?”

Bigby shook his head, “Snow, really, you don’t –”

“Waiter! Waiter!” She sat up from her seat slightly, getting the attention of the man a few tables down.

“Miss?”

“My friend will have…A whiskey. On the rocks. Please.”

Bigby stopped his protesting and Snow smiled, satisfied at her gesture.

“Snow?”

Her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t _have_ to ask, because he already knew. There was several days’ worth of alcohol on her breath, and her warm, unsteady eyes confirmed his suspicions.

Her eyes glossed over as she considered the question, and her hands went back to the security of her glass.

“This happens sometimes…I need to leave. Get away for a little bit. Things become so monotonous …and it gets hard for me.”

“Remembrance Day?” The annual event had taken place only a few days before Snow’s departure from the office.

She took a deep breath and sighed. The waiter from earlier gave her a few more moments to think as he dropped off Bigby’s drink.

“It’s hard, because I used to look forward to it so much. But now…” Her voice almost shook, but she pushed away the emotion and continued, “Every year, I feel more and more like an imposter.”

Bigby allowed his pretense to drop. His face softened as he tried to find the words to respond with. “You seem so genuine up there, though. Everyone holds their breath until you finally give your speech. It’s always the best one.”

Snow glanced away, clearly flustered. She took a moment before she looked back up at him, shaking her head, “You’re kind. But that doesn’t change that it feels more and more like I’m selling something. Feels like…false hope.” Her face became blank again. “I’m…I’m sorry. This is why I leave when I get this morose. People can’t know I get like this.”

Bigby leaned forward and lowered his shoulders in order to reach her eyes. “You’re putting an awful lot of pressure on yourself.” He leaned back in his seat, considering it, “Can’t say I’m surprised, though. You need to _relax.”_

“Trust me, I’ve tried to relax. I brought a mundy up to my room the other night. I thought socializing with an outsider would help. Talking to someone who doesn’t have any expectations of me.”

Bigby swallowed his mouthful of whiskey roughly. “How uh…was it?”

Snow’s eyes widened, as Bigby’s curiosity and jealousness shone through his neutral reaction. She smirked, “Let’s just say that mundy men are as transparent as Fable men, with half the imagination.”

“Well….that’s no surprise to me…Something tells me that you’re tough to please.”

She let out a short laugh before she shrugged, “You know me pretty well, don’t you, Sheriff?”

It was Bigby’s turn to blush, now. It was quiet again, and Snow leaned back and stretched out her neck before letting out a sigh.

“How, uh…was the office this week?” A look of guilt crossed her face.

Bigby laughed. “You just _gotta_ know, don’t you?”

She grinned sheepishly, but he didn’t dare point it out to her. Instead, he did his best to tell her about everything that had went wrong the past week, every bizarre incident and power struggle that went on, and every time Crane gave Bigby a dirty look. Snow listened with intensity, her eyes widening in surprise at Bigby’s narration. She asked him questions, leaning forward with inquisitiveness. They talked for a long time, their small remarks leading to expansive stories and laughter.

Bigby wasn’t sure of how much time had passed until a lull in their conversation finally occurred. Snow glanced down at her nearly empty drink.

“Well…it’s getting late, I guess.” Bigby rubbed the back of his neck and gave a light-hearted shrug.

Snow nodded before swallowing. She seemed to be turning ideas over in her mind. Her nose and cheeks were red, and her eyes were warm, but tired.

“Before you leave…do you think you could see me up to my room?” She looked down at her drink, “I’ve…uhm…been here for a while.”

Bigby didn’t have to pause to think about it. He stood up slowly and waited while Snow picked up her purse. She leveraged her weight against the table as she stood wobbling. She reached out and grabbed his arm for support as she stabilized herself before they walked back towards the elevator in silence. She held onto him tightly the entire way, her heels forming more and more of an obstacle for her.

Sometimes, it amazed Bigby how their friendship could be so easy and so unpretentious. This mutual understanding that they shared was freeing, despite it rarely coming to light. Bigby considered this as Snow wrestled with her room key once they reached her door. With any other woman, he would have detected a tension, a nervousness of sorts. But with Snow, he just felt calm. There were few expectations between them. Just shared company.

She got the door open and took a step inside, turning on the yellow light. Bigby stood at the entrance with his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll see you later, Snow.”

“ _Wait._ Come inside for a minute. Why are you in such a hurry?”

Bigby swallowed, but he didn’t argue. He followed Snow inside. She was tripping over herself, and his nervousness returned. He had never seen her like this. He crossed his arms and stood still at the opposite side of the room while she leaned on the bed to finally tear her heels from her feet.

“You okay?”

She shot him a look, the first glimpse of malice he had seen tonight, as she rested on the foot of her bed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Bigby glanced around. Her room, which was ornately furnished, was in an unusual state of disarray for any room that Snow White resided in. Her clothes were all over, bursting out of a small, hastily packed suitcase. The nightstand held a collection of bottles, empty and half-full, burning Bigby’s nose with juniper.

“ _Well?”_

“You just seem…like you’re taking something hard.”

There was silence. Snow stared daggers at Bigby before her gaze dropped to the wall. Her mouth opened, and Bigby fully expected a lashing to ensue, releasing the pressure that had built up throughout the night. Her lips promptly closed, however, and she seemed to consider her words once more.

“I _hate_ that you’re here and that you’re seeing me like this.” Her voice was ragged, yet soft and quiet. Her anger seemed to transform into a sort of disappointment.

He didn’t know what to do. His standing suddenly seemed inappropriate, so he made his way to the other side of the room to a lonely armchair in the corner. He sat down, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Snow…I’m here as a friend. It’s okay to be burnt out. We’ve all been there.”

“It’s not just being stressed out…It’s this constant…I don’t know.” She swallowed hard. “It’s loneliness. Not for friends…I’ve never really had any friends. I am alone. I’ve fought hard to stay that way. But my hope is draining. What is there to hope for, anymore? I don’t want to go home. Home is just false promises. Nobody should know that better than me.”

“You’ve fought long and hard to make New York livable. You’ve given more than any other Fable has. It’s reasonable to find happiness here.”

“I’m _not_ happy here. New York is hell. I’m numb here. But I’ve been numb my whole life. It’s only now that I’m getting tired of it.”

Bigby leaned into his chair, taken back by her sudden honesty. He tried not to act surprised. “You know, I’ve given up on this city a lot. I’ve ditched this place for years before coming back.”

“Trust me, I remember. Always at the worst times, it seemed like.” She snorted as she crawled on top of the bed and made her way further from Bigby. She sat up, resting her back against her pillows and the headboard before tucking her feet beneath her body. Her voice took a more somber tone, “It’s always harder without you here.”

“Look, I’ve apologized for that before. But that’s not my point. My point is that you don’t _have_ to be here. You don’t need to poison yourself to make a point. You could take a break.”

Snow’s chin tilted back and she stretched her crimson nails away from her. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the sheriff. “What am I without this city, Bigby? What are _any_ of us?”

He didn’t speak.

“Sometimes, when I’m walking down the street, I’ll hear people talk about me. I’ll see people who have come to the office for help, and I give them nothing. And I…” She took a deep breath, “I can hear their anger, and I _know_ I have nothing to give them. I don’t even _run_ the business office. But I know I’m part of the problem. And I know that I can help, I just haven’t seen the way yet. So how can _I_ be the one who gives up on this? The founder who gave up on everyone. What a joke.”

“Well…You’re stronger than me. Because I’ve given up on these people a lot.”

“Why do you come back?”

He glanced up at her, meeting her sapphire eyes as his resolve began to melt. He knew what he was missing when he was far away from Fabletown. After being gone for long enough, her eyes and her scent would take over his dreams and would continue to haunt him after he woke. He worried about her ceaselessly. But Bigby knew now was not the right time to bring this up.

“There’s nothing out there for me… and I figure you must need me back. The detective work really suffers when I’m gone.”

Snow rolled her eyes, a smile finally erupting on her face. She leaned back further, resting her head on the wall of pillows behind her. Her eyes closed. “I’m dizzy…dizzy and tired.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No…it’s nice….nice to have company.”

Bigby’s eyes wandered to the window where the lights of the city shone through the curtains. “I never take time to enjoy the lights anymore. Never take in the city, even when I have a good view. I remember when they really started to build up, I felt so confined. But I liked the lights.” He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket before lighting one compulsively, “Still a little cramped for me, though.”

He looked back down at the bed. Snow was crumbled over herself, still sitting, with her head lolled against the pillows. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and steady.  

“Snow?”

She didn’t stir.

Bigby leaned back in his chair. It was nicer than the one he had at home, unsurprisingly. He took a few final drags from his cigarette before putting it out in the ash tray next to him. He listened to Snow’s breathing, and despite his unfamiliar surroundings and sitting only a few feet away from the lovely woman that constantly crept into his thoughts, he fell asleep almost instantly.

He woke up with a start to the sound of running water and the unmistakable sound of Snow’s heels on the bathroom tile. Rubbing his eyes, Bigby sat up, glancing around the room nervously. The myriad of bottles that crowded every surface last night had vanished. Snow’s bag sat on the bed neatly, already packed.

Snow appeared around the corner, her hands busy with clasping one of her earrings on. “Good morning.”

Bigby squinted at her, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes. “Christ. What time is it?”

“A quarter after eight.”

“Ugh…”

“Can’t hold your liquor, sheriff?”

He didn’t answer. He only looked up at her as she stood above him, her arms crossed and her hair perfectly coiffed.

“I wanted to head home soon. Do you want to get breakfast?

“Oh…um. Yeah! Are you…sure you want me to tag along?”

She furrowed her brows. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He stood up, grabbing his jacket and running his hand through his hair. “Most people don’t think I’m that fun to be around.”

“Well, it looks like we were made for each other, then.”

Snow gathered the last of her things in her hands before Bigby held the door open for her, and they made their way home, together.

 


End file.
